


Sea Stars

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternian Empire, Canon Ending Disregarded, F/F, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:08:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9073015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When the Game ended, it copied-and-pasted the timeline, sculpting its former players into gods to protect the new world. These gods chose, however, to remain in stasis -- to sleep, rather than to dote over every little thing. Now that Alternia has regrown, almost an identical to the one before it, it's time for them to face the consequences.





	1. Overlook

"Equius," he whispers, breath hot on your neck, elbows stabbing into the muscle of your abdomen. "Eq, hon. I gotta piss."

 

You note how tightly he must be curled, to be so low on you. His knees brush the tops of your thigh when he shifts, fins fluttering in the darkness of your room. The cot creaks beneath him at the same time, though, a chide and a warning as to how large your beloved fish is when he isn't condensed into a more manageable ball. He barely fits in here anymore; he only stays on the cot without complaining, you think, for fear of you having nowhere else to put him but your coon and thus invading your comfort zone -- or, even worse, him having to find other places to stay. 

 

If this was true, you doubt you would have come onto this cot to be groin-to-groin with him on something roughly three-quarters your size in an attempt to prevent him from shivering alone, but alas. Eridan does not think in these terms. He thinks in eons alone, centuries left to rot in a cave, millennia spent recording, spent in the background, spent hiding and stuffing and sitting on that craving for attention that defined him for the very first sweeps of your life. It was that trait, and his seadwellertude, that drove you from him in the beginning, but Alternia was born again without the traditions that separated you and with his guiding hand (never gentle, but always subtle, always in the background) they didn't return. 

He has also done horrendous things, the kind that make him fear for being thrown out if he dares to contradict your boundaries. You choose to ignore them when you can't understand. He is the Overseer, and you overlook. It works beautifully.

 

He would smack you for that wordplay.

 

And right on cue, he smacks you on the shoulder, gentle enough that it feels more like a poke but enough to gain your attention. You have lost yourself in sleepy consideration, half-lidded eyes staring at him without an ounce of comprehension as he continues to wriggle against you with a little hiss here and there. "Eq, you big lug, come the fuck on---

"Language," you remind, his original request abandoning your memory. For a second he stops and stares, trying to determine if you mean it and failing to realize you don't. Removing foul language from Eridan would hurt him more than removing his very fins themselves, but he still does not understand that you understand. Not even in the slightest. 

"Please," he whines, relenting against you. "I told you, didn't I? Gotta pee. Right now. Scoot your boot, babe."

You scoot your boot without any further attempt at humor or stalling. It doesn't take much to pretend you don't notice that the bathroom is to the left of your respiteblock, and he's taken a sharp right.


	2. ARIES

You're not ready when they come for you.

 

You don't think there really was a way to be ready; the ruins of your hive creak softly with every strong wind, insufficient protection against even the most basic of elements. Goddess or not, you are weak, and you have been asleep for _so long_.

 

The door slams open with a bang to wake even the dead in the earliest hours of the evening. They do not care that you aren't fighting; they haul you, in all your ghoulishness, to your feet, helmets shiny beetle black. Boots stomp over the altar you had been praying over, laboring over, the still-wet splatters of animal and troll scattering from their stones. This is a team far too big, far too violent, for one little redblood girl. The rush of motion sets your circuits afire with confusion, gears whirring in the quiet to catch up. Someone's knee catches your nose, blood dripping down your face; another one shouts, a deep, rumbling noise that echoes out into the quiet. You were so close to warning them. You knew this was coming. You _knew._

 

And you do nothing to stop it.

 


End file.
